


Some Days You Just Want to Kill Your Co-workers

by PyrophobicDragon



Series: Spy AU [1]
Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 15:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19359763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyrophobicDragon/pseuds/PyrophobicDragon
Summary: Curran's co-workers are weirdly interested in his roommate.A spy AU with very little spying action, just a lot of domestic.





	Some Days You Just Want to Kill Your Co-workers

**Author's Note:**

> There are some not-particularly graphic descriptions of blood and one count of a non-consensual kiss.

“I’m back!” Curran hollered as he walked through the front door of their house.

He hears a muffled noise from Heinwald’s bedroom, and a second later his roommate and best friend comes padding out. He’s wearing the goddamn dragon kirugumi Curran got him as a joke for his birthday, long black-and-white hair spilling out of the sides of the hood.

Curran stopped and laughed at him. Because he could.

Heinwald just ignored him and went into the kitchen. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Pizza.” He had just flown in from South Korea, hunting down an agent who had missed their check-in time. Luckily, it had been a case of a destroyed comm unit and not a death or a desertion. However, South Korean pizza was weird. Too sweet for his taste.

Heinwald came out of the kitchen with the punch-card for the pizza parlor. “Get me breadsticks,” he said, handing Curran the card.

Curran rolled his eyes. “Seriously, partner, I’ve been back in the country for all of three hours and you’re asking ME to order my food?”

Heinwald nodded, blinking guilelessly. Curran sighed. “Fine. You asshole.”

He was honestly way too easy.

***

He met Heinwald through work.

They had heard a rumor that some rich dude was developing potential chemical weaponry. This was not usually Curran’s division, but this guy turned out to be too elusive for his less-competent coworkers. So Curran, the man who usually tracked down rogue agents, ended up searching down some wannabe mad scientist, with orders to recruit him if possible and eliminate him if necessary.

Halfway through his mission he had run into Heinwald.

At first, he had thought that Heinwald was the target he was looking for. He certainly looked the part, with his glasses and his jailbroken phone. But after assuring him many times that he was, in fact, not the one developing a chemical bomb, Heinwald had offered to work together, and Curran, totally suspicious of him, accepted so he can learn more about him.

What he had found was not only the target and the target’s bomb planted underneath a public library, but also a highly intelligent investigator with a dry, snarky sense of humor and a blatant disregard for what anyone else thought of him.

After Heinwald disarmed the bomb while Curran arrested the target, Curran had asked him to work for the Agency.

Heinwald refused.

After digging through the rubble and discovering that the microchip he was looking for did not have the information he needed, he offered Curran a place to stay.

Curran accepted.

So that’s how Curran got a shiny new house, a roommate, and a best friend. And how the Agency acquired yet another brain, but one that they didn’t have to pay and who only listened to Curran. And even that, only sometimes.

***

"Hein. Can you watch this footage and tell me if I'm missing anything?"

Heinwald wiped his hands on a dish towel and picked up his mug of tea. He wandered over and Curran hit the play button on the video footage of the street outside a missing agent’s apartment complex. After a moment, Heinwald sipped some tea, made a face when he burned his tongue, and said, "He's staying with a secret family of his. He likely has a wife and a four-year-old daughter."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Heinwald leaned back from the laptop and continued, "I doubt he would do anything to endanger his wife and child, so my guess is that he became hospitalized for a mundane reason while staying with his family and missed the check-in time. He’s likely experiencing a moment of panic. I could deduce which hospitals he would be staying at, or you can wait...oh, a week or two? And he will no doubt come running into your workplace with a carefully-constructed cover story and profuse apologies."

“I never understand how you do that,” Curran shook his head. “Tell me more about the hospitals.”

Heinwald brightened up. “Good! I was hoping you’d say that. Could you take me to his apartment?”

Curran hesitated. Heinwald’s face twisted into a pout. “Pleeeeease?”

“You are--such a child!” Curran barked. “Fine! Let’s go. But I’m not supposed to do this!”

“You say so every time you take me on an investigation, yet you haven’t stopped,” Heinwald pointed out with inordinate smugness.

“You shut up,” Curran grumbled. It was true. He had smuggled Heinwald into all sorts of crime scenes and classified locations. He worked with such a speed and accuracy that it was just easier to bring him along.

That, and Curran could hardly resist his puppy eyes.

***

Curran got called into the head honcho's office one day.

He had only been here twice in his entire career. Agent X welcomed him into his office, offered some tea, then got right to business.

"Agent, I've heard news that you recently worked alongside a gentleman named Heinwald."

"Yes sir."

"I've also heard that you became his roommate."

"He has a nice house and he's easy to get along with, sir," Curran lied.

"Now, I know that Mr. Heinwald is very intelligent. I know he helped you a lot on that mission. I know because we have files on him."

Curran filed that away for later. "Your point, sir?"

"I want you to promise me that you will never share any confidential details with anyone without the necessary clearance."

Curran had looked Agent X in the eye and lied through his teeth.

Of course, his lie held water like a mesh sieve. The Agency was filled with intelligent people. And though Curran was one of them, people definitely took note when he started getting some great insight into his targets' location that only top agents could have gleaned and starting closing cases within days of getting them.

Everyone knew where--or rather, who--Curran got his insights from. But given the fact that the Agency had been unsuccessfully trying to recruit "Subject V" for over five years, the higher-ups were pretty willing to turn a blind eye to what he was doing.

***

Their existence was...strange, but fine for the first few months. They ate dinner together, talked, helped each other out with experiments and investigations, sometimes Curran would disappear for weeks at a time but Heinwald never seemed to notice. Heinwald built a Roomba. They named it Mr. Toasty.

It all changed when Curran went off to a trip to Cairo.

He was sitting at a bar, chatting to the bartender who kept touching their hair and laughing at everything he said when his burner phone buzzed. He checked it in case it was the agent he was supposed to rendezvous with and nearly had a heart attack.

_Dear Curran, Heinwald here. I apologize for hacking your fake phone number, but I've subdued a man who broke into our house with the apparent intention of kidnapping me. Please advise._

He immediately stepped out of the bar and called Heinwald.

The bastard waited five fucking rings to pick up. And he answered with, "Ah, pardon me. I could not locate my phone, as I had messaged you via my computer and was expecting a text back."

"Yeah, fuck that. What happened?"

"I was sitting in my study working on the stun gun when I heard an unusual noise from the living room. Fearing that Mr. Toasty had gotten stuck, I stopped to listen to see if he was in distress. I heard footsteps. Roombas do not have feet."

Curran snorted. "Yeah, that'll be creepy as fuck."

"Not to mention inefficient. After all, humans have feet, and thus we created cleaning robots so we do not have to lean down to dust--pardon me, I attached a knife to Mr. Toasty as an escape deterrent and I believe he has stabbed our guest in the ankle."

And then Heinwald, the stupid bastard, set down his phone so Curran couldn't even ask him to elaborate.

He came back a few nerve-wracking minutes later. "Fear not, it turns out my stun gun has a bug where it releases secondary discharges of electricity after it is fired. Anyways--"

Curran interrupted him. "Please don't tell me you decided to deal with your fucking attacker by leaving him alone in a room with a knife and our fucking Roomba."

"Of course not," Heinwald said, affronted. "I restrained him with duct tape and zip ties first."

"Okay. Fine. Keep going." Curran ran his hand down over his eyes.

"Anyways, since Roombas lack feet, I took the stun gun I was working on for your birthday present and hid underneath my desk. When he opened the door, I successfully stunned him and tied him to the wobbly kitchen chair with a zip tie I had in my desk then with duct tape. Then I duct taped a knife to Mr. Toasty and left him in the room while I retreated to the living room to try and contact you. While that information was processing, I returned to our guest and investigated his pockets and discovered items that would be conducive to kidnapping."

Curran sighed. “Okay. This is okay. Listen, I’m going to call in a couple of flavors and send someone to our place, okay? Try not to tase them. The password is...uh, my Starbucks order.”

“Fear not, I only had the one taser. I will, however, have a knife, so send someone who is capable of dodging a clumsy attempt at a stab.”

“Awesome, you eliminated about ninety percent of our personnel,” Curran joked. Then he hung up.

He dialed a number that he wasn’t really supposed to know, but he knew anyways. This time, it barely rang once before Berserker picked up.

“Speaking.”

“Hey, Berserker. My. Uh. My roommate almost got kidnapped, can you go over there and...help him out?”

“...Okay?”

“Thanks. I owe you one. The password is my Starbucks order.”

Then he hung up before Berserker could ask him any more questions. Questions that he honestly did not know the answer to.

After that day, Curran stopped trusting Heinwald to stay home alone. Well, more precisely, he stopped trusting other people to leave him home alone.

So, a couple of weeks later, before he had to leave the office and head off on another trip in Canada, he took a couple of hours to text around the office. Apparently Alex was not scheduled for a trip for another few weeks.

_Hey Alex. I’m elaving on a trip. Can u keep an eye on my roommate._

_Why_

_He almost got kidnapped the last time i went._

_...k?_

_Don’t like...move into the house or anything. In fact it might be better if he doesn’t know you’re there._

_I haven’t agreed yet._

_Thanks. Shouldn’t be for more than a week, week and a half_

Five days later, Curran’s plane touched down. As much as he wanted to go straight home and nap for a couple of days, he went into the office so he can get all of his civilian stuff. Like his actual phone that Heinwald actually has the number to.

As soon as he walked through the door, he’s accosted by a miffed-looking Alex. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him down the hallways into a custodial closet. “The entire time you were gone, your roommate’s been texting me asking me to get him random-ass shit,” she hissed.

Curran blinked at her. “W-what?!”

She pulled out her phone and started reading out loud. “From an unknown number: If you’re going to be standing out in the rain, you should buy an umbrella. While you’re at it, get me 2 rolls of aluminum tape. I’ll pay you back. The same number, a couple of days later: Can you check your CCTV and let me know when a package arrives in the mail. And he kept going like that.” She lowered her phone and glared at him. “How did he find my number?”

Curran sighed. “He...he’s…” Damn. How could he truly explain all of Heinwald? Telling her to read his file seemed like a cop-out. “Well. He’s a weird guy.”

“Ugh.” She rubbed her hand across her forehead. “Luckily for you, he gave me advice on how to deal with a...personal problem. And it worked. So I guess if you need me to keep an eye on him later, you can. Ask me again.”

“Sorry for not warning you,” he said lamely. As she exited the broom closet, she flipped him off.

When he got home, Heinwald was sitting on the couch cross-legged typing away on his laptop. He didn’t spare the effort of looking up before immediately saying, “I’m flattered that you believe me worthy of having an agent guarding over my person, but don’t you believe that to be a waste of resources?”

“It’s not Agency-sanctioned, I literally just asked a friend to check up on you once in a while. And besides, we already have a dossier on you, so she’s technically contributing to Agency intel.” Was he not supposed to tell Heinwald about that? Crap.

“I know about the dossier. I’ve read it.”

Curran sighed. Go fucking figure. “Do me a favor and never tell anyone that.”

Heinwald finally looked up at him. “Hm. It wouldn’t do to get you in trouble.” Surprisingly...sweet. He continued, “I liked Miss Alex. She brought me Starbucks.”

“Well, she might not be available next time. But I’ll try to get people you approve of,” he said dryly. But he meant it.

***

He had chosen Alex because she, of all people, would be the one least likely to run her mouth about his request.

But he forgot one thing: she told Agent Elisanne everything.

And Agent Elisanne told Euden everything.

And Euden, while he wasn’t one prone to gossip, was constantly surrounded by gossip-mongerers who would no doubt overhear everything Elisanne said.

So within an hour of arriving back, after he finished filing his report, he exited the office and was stopped by a hand coming down on his shoulder. He looked up to see Orion grinning down at him. “Hey! Heard you asked Alex to keep an eye on your roommate.”

“Uh. Yeah. Why do you ask?” Curran asked warily.

Orion shrugged. “Just saying--feel free to call me if you need a bodyguard for him.”

“What the...why on earth are you volunteering?”

“Heard he’s an interesting guy. Would love to meet him.”

Curran narrowed his eyes at Orion. Usually, that was code for ‘I hear she’s hot.’ “What...makes him so interesting?”

“You know...heard he’s real smart.” Orion was starting to shift back and forth on his feet.

“So? We’ve plenty of smart people around the office.” Just a little more…

“I...hear he’s really cute?” Orion offered sheepishly.

There it was. For some reason, the only response he can come up with is a scornful laugh. “Who’d you hear that from? He’s such a mess. He’s not cute at all.”

Later that night, he walked into their house. Heinwald was curled up on the couch, his hair loose and wet around his shoulders, in his dragon onesie with Curran’s quilt wrapped around his shoulders. He looked up when Curran entered and said, “Welcome home. I realized that I accidentally spoiled your birthday surprise, so you may have your stun gun now and I’ll build you something new for your birthday.”

Curran laughed. He leaned over the back of the couch and ruffled his hair. “Thanks. It’s good to be back.”

Heinwald made an adorable grumble in response.

***

A few weeks pass without further incident. He went on a mission, and, yeah, he called Orion and asked him to watch out for Heinwald. This time it was officially sanctioned, as one of the agents had discovered a potential threat aiming to kidnap scientists for whatever reason. And Heinwald, with the double-whammy of being both the smartest person Curran’s ever known and a roommate to a secret agent, could be in particular danger.

Curran had asked to be put on the case of the disappearing scientists. They refused. It ‘wasn’t his specialty.’

He left on his new mission with plenty of vocal grumbling and a promise from Orion to make sure Heinwald was okay and to do his every bidding. Orion had made that promise with a shit-eating grin, and Curran just left before the roiling in his gut could overcome him.

He found the rogue agent--not one of theirs; he was a CIA man--and came back home. When he got to his locker, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Someone had plastered his locker with pictures.

From a distance, it was hard to tell any rhyme or reason to the new wallpaper. But then he gets closer and sees the black-and-white hair and red eyes popping up in all of the pictures.

There’s Heinwald’s headshot from some sort of school website wearing what looked like a school uniform straight out of a British novel and giant glasses. There’s a tiny Heinwald, in a equally tiny suit, standing like a tiny soldier next to a giant of a man who Curran guessed was his father and a girl who he recognized as his sister. There are college Heins, high school Heins, little Heins, even Heinwald in the background of someone else’s Facebook photo, sitting on the steps outside of a museum reading a book.

“Oh, wow, what happened to your locker, man?”

Curran glared at his locker. “Luca.”

Luca clapped him on the shoulder. “He doesn’t have much of an internet presence. But we found a few.”

“Yeah, he says that he doesn’t like having his face on the internet.” Curran’s still not sure if it’s because he was easily recognizable or general privacy concern. Then he shook his head and turned around, scowling at Luca. “Seriously, why?”

“We got curious!” Luca grinned at him.

“Haven’t you ever heard that ‘curiosity milled the cat?’” he snapped. He was so pissed, he didn’t even care that he fucked that up in a way that made Luca grimace at the mental image. He turned back to his locker and started yanking the pictures off his locker, tearing some in the process.

“Aw, come on! We spent so much time on that!” Luca complained.

Curran twisted and shook his fistful of paper at Luca. “I’m burning these. Then I’m gonna to tell your sister what you did.”

“No! Don’t tell Sarisse!”

Curran viciously tore a whole swath of photographs off his locker.

There was something almost perverted about seeing Heinwald at work. Yes, he knew about the dossier, yes, his co-workers knew about him, yes, he’s been asking him for help with work stuff, but he was still...sacred. As if he could only existed inside their shared house, drinking tea and filling the spare room with journals and begging to be taken on investigations where he’ll disappear and Curran would have to spend thirty minutes looking for him only to find him dusting for fingerprints in the furnace room.

It didn’t make much sense, even in his own mind. But Curran long learned that he should never examine his own motives and morals too closely. Only the Goddess could judge his thoughts.

***

More weeks passed, each one more frustrating than the next. Geniuses kept disappearing. A few high-profile ones were assigned bodyguards; some low-profile ones were put into various witness protection programs. Curran started refusing as many missions as he could, taking the pay cut in favor of sitting around doing deskwork just so he can come home at night and make sure Heinwald was still there.

He hadn’t quite resorted to full-on codependency, but it was a near thing.

Curran was out shopping for groceries when he got a text from Heinwald. At least it was on his actual cell this time.

_There are people in our living room_

He drops the shopping basket in front of the bread section and ran for home.

When he burst through the front door, he pulled the small taser out of his back pocket at the same time, bringing it up to bear.

Then he sagged with relief and lowered his stun gun when he realized that it was Euden, Elisanne, Ranzal, Cleo, and Luca sitting at his kitchen table, all holding mis-matched mugs of tea. Heinwald was standing a ways away from them with a slightly alarmed look at Curran’s dramatic entrance.

“Oh, hey Curran,” Euden greeted him calmly.

Curran ignored him in favor of scowling at his roommate. “Heinwald! You fucking gave me a god-damn heart attack! Jesus fucking Christ!”

“My apologies. I thought it prudent to let you know that we had visitors. I did not realize that my text would be alarming,” Heinwald said. He pushed his glasses up his nose.

Curran grasped his face with one hand. “You didn’t think that I would be ‘alarmed’ at your fucking text? Right after you nearly got kidnapped? You asshole.”

“Sorry,” Euden said sheepishly. “We…”

“Yeah, actually, what the hell are you all doing here?” Curran demanded.

“We just wanted to meet your roommate!” Luca slurped his tea loudly. Curran closed his eyes and counted to ten.

“Why?”

“Well, you never really talk about him…” Euden began.

“Well, obviously not! He’s just my roommate!” Curran shouted. He felt a little bad about yelling at Euden, who was very sweet and kind, but right now the leftover adrenalin made him just too keyed-up to care.

“Curran…” Cleo began, using her work-mom voice.

Curran, now getting truly annoyed thinking about the weird occurrences at work, cut her off. “Actually, can one of you go ahead and tell me why the hell everyone is so obsessed with Heinwald? You’d think it’s their job or something!”

“For some of us, it is our job! Have you forgotten about our kidnapping issue?” Elisanne stood up from her chair, looking angry at him yelling at Euden.

“Maybe if you people weren’t incompetent at your jobs it wouldn’t be a fucking issue any more!”

Suddenly, there was a hand on his bicep. “Curran!” He jerked his head toward Heinwald, who had crossed the living room in a flash and was now running his hand up and down his arm the way he did whenever Curran woke up late at night with a nightmare. “Curran, calm.”

Curran realized that he was breathing heavily and his face was burning with anger.

He turned away from the kitchen table, pulling his arm out of Heinwald’s grip in the process, and ran a hand through his hair, gripping the back of it in frustration.

Before he could start to feel truly guilty about shaking off Heinwald so abruptly, he felt him coming up behind him again. Then he felt a cool hand on his back, running up and down his spine.

After a long moment of that, Curran turned back around. With Heinwald at his side, it was as if they were presenting a united front against the other agents, which made him feel disproportionately better. He huffed out a sigh. “Sorry for yelling. I’m just on edge, especially after that nerve-wracking text.” He shot a half-hearted glare at Heinwald, who mouths sorry at him but otherwise doesn’t say anything.

Elisanne now looks guilty. “I’m sorry too.”

Euden nodded. “Yes, we really should have let you know before coming here.” He paused, then added cautiously, “We...admittedly were attempting to go behind your back with our visit here. Which, in hindsight, was a pretty bad idea.”

Much calmer now, Curran walked closer to the table, crossing then uncrossing his arms and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Why?”

The agents at the table were exchanging glances, no doubt communicating what and how much they would tell him. He just waited patiently.

Finally, Elisanne started to try and explain. “You’ve never really...cared about. People your age. Like, you’re cool, and you’re friendly. But…I don’t ever recall you having a best friend.”

Euden also added his two cents. “Yes...sometimes, you seemed a bit lonely. You really seem brightened up with your new partner. You can hardly blame us for being curious, can you?”

Curran sighed and rubbed his forehead, feeling his fingers catch on the scar above his eyebrow. As much as he hated to admit it, they kinda had a point. He was...well, he wasn’t an absolute asshole. But he was rather curt with a lot of people. There was a reason why he never had a roommate before, despite how expensive living in the city was.

“Well, I’m glad I finally have an explanation that makes somewhat sense,” he finally said. He turned his head to address Heinwald. “I’m...aw, duck. I ditched our groceries in the middle of the fudging store. Have fun with your...tea party.”

“Bring home some biscuits, dear,” Heinwald replied in an exaggerated British accent.

Curran bust out laughing, finally letting go of the pure stress of the last twenty, thirty minutes. “Feck ya! Go buy ye oooown daaaaamn biscuits!” he replied with a truly horrendous Scottish accent.

Heinwald’s face contorted, a sure sign that he was fighting back laughter. At the table, Curran could see several very confused faces and Cleo’s mildly offended one. He shot them a grin. “Inside joke. Don’t worry about it.”

And, feeling much lighter, he set off to go find their goddamn groceries.

And maybe some biscuits for Heinwald. Just to see if he could make him laugh.

***

After the Living Room Panic, his co-workers stopped showing as much interest in Heinwald as they had before. Or maybe they were just less overt about it. And after a few days, the Agency finally had a breakthrough in the case with the missing scientists and were able to make arrests of the kidnappers and free all the missing people, though from what he heard they were still investigating motives.

After that bit of good news, life returned to normal in the Heinwald-Curran household. They start talking about adopting a cat. Even though they’ve only known each other for about a year at this point, it felt like they’ve known each other forever.

“Perhaps we knew each other in a different life,” Heinwald said when Curran mentioned that one night on the couch.

He could believe it.

Then one day he walked through their front door

And saw Agent 3 kissing Heinwald in their kitchen.

His stomach plummeted and so did the grocery bags.

At the noise, Heinwald’s eyes dart over to meet his and he shoves Agent 3 away. Curran opened his mouth to say--what? I’ll be going now? Don’t let me interrupt you?

But then Heinwald snarled, voice filled with a quaky venom that he usually reserved for drunkenly shit-talking his father,

“How **_fucking_** dare you.”

And Curran leaped into action.

He bolted across the expanse of the living room into the kitchen and seized 3 by the collar. He knows that 3 is--literally--one of the top 3 agents in the Agency, and by all rights he probably easily take Curran on in a fight, but he stayed limp in his grasp as Curran shook him and began to drag him towards the door. “You’re outta here, buddy,” he growled, so angry that he didn’t even fuck up his one-liner.

He threw 3 out onto his ass then slammed the front door shut in his face. By the time he turned around, Heinwald had disappeared from the kitchen. But when he stopped still and listened, he could hear the distant sound of the bathroom sink running.

When he reached the open bathroom door, Heinwald looked up at him, toothbrush in his mouth.

Curran leaned against the door frame. “Are you okay?” he demanded.

Heinwald spat into the bathroom sink. “Urgh.” Then he crammed his toothbrush back into his mouth.

“I’m definitely reporting that to HR.” He could feel heat still rising up on the back of his neck, despite the fact that he eliminated the problem already. “Did he...what the hell was that about?”

He had to wait a few minutes for Heinwald to finish brushing his teeth. Finally he wiped his face with a towel. “He was here when I went to get lunch. We talked, and then he kissed me. Ugh.” He made a face. “On one hand, now I’m curious to see if kissing can be more interesting than that. On the other, that was so unpleasant I find myself hoping I will never experience it again.”

It was like a bucket of ice water was dumped over Curran’s head. He stared at Heinwald. “You--” he started, then stopped. He was getting choked up with anger. He was going to kill 3, HR be damned.

Heinwald looked at him, puzzled, for a moment. Then he laughed and gestured at his face. “Do you truly believe that anyone would be willing to kiss me? Of course I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Then he squeezed past Curran and disappeared into his bedroom.

***

At the office the next day, Curran stormed in. He had spent the night downright vibrating with anger. He had gotten up, planning to go find Heinwald to ask to get lulled to sleep, but he ended up back in bed, too reluctant to go and ask.

To say he was not in a good mood this morning was an understatement.

He made a beeline to the cafeteria. While all agents had a desk, a cubicle, or an office, most agents not currently doing fieldwork hung out and worked together in the cafeteria. He spotted Verica sitting with Euden and company and made a beeline towards her.

He rudely interrupted their conversation to ask her, “Hey, V, when 3 comes in can you let me know? I’m going to kill him.”

Verica’s look of alarm was echoed on the faces of all the agents in earshot. “What?”

“He broke into my house to grope and kiss Hein,” Curran said with calm fury.

He was gratified to see a matching expression of shock and fury on Verica’s face. Then he glanced over at the others at the table and saw the same...along with what looked like guilt and a big heaping teaspoon of Yikes. Once again, he felt his anger bubbling in his gut. “Tell me what you know,” he said, deathly quiet.

Euden said quietly, “We did not tell him to do that. I think...he overheard our conversation and decided to take matters into his own hands.”

Curran said nothing. Everyone knew that was an incomplete explanation.

Elisanne looked him dead in the eye. “We were talking about how to encourage you and your roommate to...realize your feelings and get together.”

Curran stared at her. That was...preposterous. Except…

He dropped his head into his hands. “Oh fuck. Am I in love with Heinwald?”

“Heinwald--” Ranzal started. But he was elbowed simultaneously by Cleo and Luca.

Cleo said gently, “I think...instead of killing 3, you need to go home and speak to your roommate. He is very honest. You just need to ask the right questions.”

Curran raised his head to stare at her. “Oh fuck. Is Heinwald in love with me?”

She only shrugged.

Ten minutes later, he was sitting down at the cafeteria table, chin in his hand. Just thinking about Heinwald.

About how smart he was. About how funny he was, but in a way that was incomprehensible to anyone else but how that made Curran always feel good, having those inside jokes and knowledge of Heinwald for only himself. About how cute he was. How damn pretty, with that long, soft hair and those gorgeous eyes.

He thought about how Heinwald let him touch his purple hand, how he let him run his hands through his hair. About how they comforted each other after nightmares, and how safe he feels lying with his head on Heinwald’s lap, with his thin fingers combing through his hair, watching stupid infomercials at two in the morning after he’s been awake fighting paranoia for the past hour. About how he knows Heinwald and Heinwald knows him. About going out to dinner then deciding halfway through that they want to take the dishes home and eat on their couch instead, about going on investigations together, about getting too close together when they’re drunk but not feeling awkward about it. About bickering and bantering over the smallest, stupidest things.

He thought that he could go home right that second and ask Heinwald if he loved him. And he would get a truthful answer, because that’s the sort of person Heinwald was.

Then he thought that he wouldn't give 3 the satisfaction of thinking that his stupid plan had worked.

He straightened up in his seat. “Right. Awesome.”

“Are you going to go talk to Heinwald?” Luca asked eagerly.

Curran laughed and shook his head. “Nah. Still gonna go kill 3.”

He caught a glimpse of universally disappointed faces as he got up and left the cafeteria.

***

People stared at him all the way back home.

He’s not really sure if his gait is more of a stagger or a swagger. And he’s also not sure if he’s feeling high off of satisfaction or concussion. But either way, he stumbles through their front door with a feral grin on his face.

“You’re home early--what on earth!” Heinwald jumped up from his spot on the couch, throwing his laptop onto the coffee table (and missing completely, sending it crashing onto the hardwood floor.) He ran over to Curran, grabbing his face in his hands, turning it this way and that. “Oh dear--what happened? Come with me to the bathroom.”

He grabbed Curran’s wrist and dragged him to the bathroom. Curran leaned against the wall, watching him dig through the drawers and under the sink, pulling out bandages and antibiotics. Then he glanced at himself in the mirror.

His eye was completely blackened, there was blood all over his face, bruises and cuts all over, which definitely matched the way he felt--like he’d been run over by a dump truck. He shot himself a grin. No wonder people were staring. He looked absolutely crazy.

“3 completely swiped the door with me,” he said cheerfully. “Though I did break his prettyboy nose, so I’m not too mad.”

Heinwald began to dab away the blood with a wet towel. “You fought Agent 3?” he asked rhetorically. “Utterly foolish.” Of course he knew who 3 was. He probably knew his shooting record, his real name, and what size shoes he wore too.

“I wasn’t gonna let him get away with kissing you without permission.” Curran stared at the back of his head in the mirror, so he doesn’t have to look at Heinwald’s face so close to his own. Heinwald had patched him up before, but after the revelations of today, there was something charged in the air. “There are more official punishments coming along, but I wasn’t gonna be satisfied until I got my own hands on him.”

“Foolish,” Heinwald repeated as he began to smear ointment all over Curran’s face. There was really no need for him to go all-in on this--Curran’s bounced back from worse, and though 3 did not hold back in the slightest, Curran was no slouch in a fight either. But he let Heinwald fuss.

It felt good.

Then Heinwald reached for his shirt and undoes the top button. Curran flushed bright red, grabbing his wrist. “W-what are you doing?”

Heinwald wasn’t looking him in the eye. “I can see more bruises on your neck and shoulder. I would like to do a check for any further injuries. So take off your clothes.”

_Gladly._

Curran sighed and pulled his own shirt off. "Pants too?"

Heinwald eyed the mess of his chest critically, then declared, "If you claim to have not sustained lower limb injury, I will believe you."

"My ankle's a bit wobbly. But you can do that with the pants still on."

"Very well. Sit down if it's hurting excessively." Heinwald scooped out some bruise cream and reached for his chest. He hesitated for the briefest of moments, then started smearing it all over.

His was using his right hand, the purple one. Instead of being shocking, the chill of it was comforting on his chest. Heinwald still wasn’t looking him in the eye. Instead, he was looking at his bare chest, concentrating on his task as his fingers gently glided over Curran’s chest, his stomach, and up to the bruises on his upper arms. Curran sucked in and held his breath. On his way home he had told himself he would wait a couple of weeks to breach the topic. He told himself that, as a secret agent, he was well-practiced in lying in wait. He hadn't expected this, though.

"Don't hold your breath. Gas exchange is important."

Curran released the breath he was holding in a wheezy laugh. "Sorry. Smells weird."

Heinwald only replied, "Turn around and let me do your back.”

Curran obediently turned around. He glanced over his shoulder at the mirror and cringed. The giant bruise there was probably a product of 3 flipping him back-first onto the floor and knocking the wind out of him. He then remembered the vague concern he had earlier. "Do I have a concussion?"

"No, you look fine," Heinwald replied as he set about applying bruise cream to his back. Curran tried to control his shiver as that cool hand ran over the muscles on his shoulder. "If he had given you a concussion, my revenge would extend to be...potentially deadly."

Curran craned his neck to try and look at him. "What did you do?"

"I hacked his personal cell so any sound it makes will always play at maximum volume. The volume usually reserved for Amber Alerts," Heinwald said calmly. Then he smirked, slowly, lazily. "If you received a concussion from him, I would have done the same to his work communication device."

Curran's jaw dropped. If 3's comm went off during a mission, well...it wasn't a death sentence, not for a man like Agent 3, but it could fuck him and the whole mission over.

Once again he's reminded that Heinwald is a very dangerous man.

...Is it bad that he thinks that's kind of hot?

The first aid session took far too long for his liking. Yes, sitting there shirtless with Heinwald fussing over him was nice...but it was almost too nice. It was really testing his plan to wait a little bit before confronting this energy between them.

But when Heinwald washed his hands and declared, “You’ll live,” then reached over to help him to his feet, Curran was reluctant to leave the room.

Instead he lingered there, in Heinwald’s space. And he let him.

“Chinese for lunch?” he offered when the moment stretched a bit too long.

Heinwald shrugged. “Up to you.”

But when Curran moved for the bathroom door, Heinwald’s hand shot out and grasped his wrist. Curran looked at him, but he said nothing. Only his eyes moved, roving around Curran’s face, lingering here and there. “What?” Curran asked, trying to prompt him into saying...something. Or doing something.

“I…” he trailed off. Then he said quietly, “Thank you for...fighting someone you are utterly unmatched for for my sake.”

“Hey. I broke his nose,” Curran grumbled. He was really quite proud of that. 3 had looked so  _offended._

That managed to get Heinwald to crack a smile. But it faded quickly.

He was no longer looking at Curran. In fact, a light dusting of pink had appeared on his cheeks. His tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip, and it suddenly occurred to Curran how close they were standing.

In the end, he decided to break the silence. “I...had a plan.”

Heinwald cocked his head.

“What 3 did was an asshole move. And I didn’t want to encourage him by letting it...work.” he continued, haltingly. He took a deep breath and said, “But right now I don’t think we should...I think we should talk. Regardless of what led us to this moment.”

Heinwald thought about it for a moment, then said, “Well...consider the fact that no one else would know about what transpired here but us.”

Curran thought about it for a moment, then said. “...Yeah. Fuck it. I really want to kiss you right now.”

Heinwald nodded. “I find myself agreeing.”

And then Heinwald leaned up and he leaned down.

***

After their first kiss, they had a second kiss.

After their second kiss, they had a third one. Because, apparently, all good experiments occurred in groups of three or more. Or so Heinwald had insisted. And he looked so cute, still with that blush on his face, unable to take his hands off of Curran’s chest, that Curran had had to agree.

They talked after that.

It was probably not typical to tell each other “I love you” when Curran had only realized it was true that morning. But it _was_ true. He loved Heinwald, in many ways, and in hindsight he had for a long time.

And when one of you was a secret agent and the other was a madman, who cared about typical?


End file.
